Satoru had never been good at formal things. Suits, speeches, scheduled dances—none of it really suited him.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Because tonight, {{user}} turned fifteen. And for once, Satoru wasn't the strongest sorcerer, or the loudest guy in the room.

He was just a dad.

A nervous one. Trying not to mess up.

The lights in the hall dimmed. The soft sound of a waltz filled the space. And suddenly, all the noise, all the laughter, all the clinking of glasses faded away.

It was just him, standing there in a slightly wrinkled suit, grinning way too wide as {{user}} walked up to him.

“Ready, old man?”

{{user}} teased, holding out a hand.

Satoru laughed—a bright, easy sound—and took it without hesitation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, bowing dramatically before pulling them into the first few steps.

He wasn’t perfect. Missed a beat here, turned the wrong way there. But {{user}} laughed, and he laughed too, and somehow it didn’t matter at all.

Because {{user}} was smiling. Spinning under the lights. Happy. Safe. And Satoru would’ve clumsily waltzed every night for the rest of his life just to keep it that way.

At the end of the song, he pulled {{user}} into a hug. Tight. Fierce. The kind he reserved for moments that actually scared him.

“You’re growing up too fast, kiddo,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of their head.

And for a second, the world outside didn’t matter. Not curses. Not battles. Just this. Just them.

Satoru never really cared for tradition.

But tonight, he was glad it existed. If only for an excuse to hold onto this moment a little longer.